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A year later he could address a birthday letter to his mother in beautiful copper-plate on white paper it was a greater achievement than Cleopatra's Needle, covered with hieroglyphics. When Dodi's first letter was fluttering in Noémi's hand, she said, with a tear in her eye, to Michael, "He will write like you." "Where have you seen my handwriting?" asked Michael, in surprise.
He ran out to the walnut-house, tore the mattings down, drew out his carpenter's bench, placed the unfinished door-panel on it, took his chisel and began to work. It was just growing light. Noémi dreamed that some one was at work in the new house; the plane grated over the hard wood, and the busy workman sung "For all the gold the world could hold, I would not give my Dodi's curl."
Timar's face brightened. "Then I did get angry. I am well known to be an admirer of the fair sex, but this insult demanded satisfaction. 'Well, I will just show you that you will come with me, if you don't allow me to stop here. You will follow me of your own accord' and with that I took little Dodi's hand to lead him away. "Devil!" cried Timar.
Timar was rather hasty in his exercise of justice, and bestowed a little tap on the child's hand as a punishment for the damage done. The boy looked at him, then hid his head in his mother's breast, and began to cry. "See now," said Noémi, sadly, "you would give him away for a pipe, and this one was only of clay." Michael was very sorry to have slapped Dodi's hand.
"Yes, yes," he persisted, "I will build the house myself without any help a little house like a jewel-case, like those the Wallachians build, lined with beautiful oak; mine shall be of walnut, and fit for a prince. I will drive every nail myself, and it shall be Dodi's house when he gets bigger." Therese only smiled. "That will be fine, Michael.
Noémi remains at home with it, and Michael runs back from his work to see how little Dodi is. He takes the child from Noémi and carries him about, singing lullabies to him. If he succeeds in putting Dodi to sleep and soothing his pain, how triumphant he is! He sings "For all the gold the world could hold, I would not give my Dodi's curl."
As soon as the season permitted he would go away, ostensibly to Egypt, but really to the ownerless island. There he would die. If he could induce Noémi to die with him, then in death they would be united. Oh, Noémi would consent! What would she do in this world without Michael? What worth would the world have for such a one as she? Both there by Dodi's side.
How should he announce himself, and surprise Noémi? He stood before the little window, half covered by climbing roses, and began to sing "For all the gold the world could hold, I would not give my Dodi's curl." He was not disappointed; a moment later the window opened, and Noémi looked out with a face radiant with joy. "My Michael," whispered the poor child.
"Ah, you are beginning to work again! Have you time for that? What finery are you making?" Noémi looked at him silently, and thought, "I am making Dodi's shroud;" and then aloud, "I am making myself a collar." "Vanity, thy name is woman!" sighed Michael. Noémi found a smile for him, and answered, "You are quite right." Again the morning broke.
Then Noémi said, 'Ask the child the dog will obey him. I begged Dodi's help. The boy is kind-hearted; he had pity on me, and put his arms round Almira; then the dog let go, and the child kissed her." A tear ran down Timar's cheek. "So I was provided with another memento," said Theodor Krisstyan, as he pushed his dirty, blood-stained shirt-sleeve down from his shoulder.
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